Shadow Realm: Silence
by Man Called True
Summary: A Central Shadow Realm story. When the Shadow Realm is threatened, a legendary hero comes to the city... but even the legends have feelings.


_A world is defined, to some extent, by its myths. It exists to some small part in the stories and legends it generates, the tales and fables. This is true for all fables. It is true for the world of man and it holds true for the Shadow Realm._

_The trick is that the myths in of the world of man have no truth. Perhaps, once, they did; history teaches that all legends have at their heart a ring of fact, of something that truly happened. But time passed, fantasy and embellished engulfed the truth of the tale, and when it was done all that was left was the myth._

_In the Shadow Realm, the game is often the same. But sometimes... sometimes the myth has a solid aspect. There are tales that are true, with a weight to them that cannot be denied. The figures at the heart of these legends walk the streets of the Central Shadow Realm. They dream and act. They occasionally take offense at their portrayal in the popular press._

_But the most important part is this: the myths exist._

**Shadow Realm: Silence**

For the fifth night of the ninth month, it was unreasonably cold in the Level Four Machine Habitation. Then again, as the Central Shadow Realm has no seasons, anything under a certain temperature would always be unreasonably cold. That threshold was substantially different in separate Living Quarters, but here it was around seventy degrees.

Currently the temperature in the Level Four Machine Habitation was forty-three degrees - a chilly night, even to creatures that did not feel the cold. Of course, severe temperatures would cause trouble to those with more sensative systems, but most machines functioned perfectly fine until the thermometer went under twenty. Even with that being the case, few machines were on the streets that night.

The temperature was forty-three degrees in all parts of the Central Shadow Realm but for two. One was the Pyro and Thunder Living Quarters, where the temperature was always higher due to heating elements. The other was a single alleyway in the Level Four Machine Habitation.

The time was twenty-seven after eight in the evening, and so most of the Central Shadow Realm was dark, but for that alleyway. Past the entrance of that alleyway, a soft golden light fell on the street, and a gentle warmth radiated outward. An X-Head Cannon hovering past stopped at that heat, letting its internal systems take some stress off of its heating elements, and then saw the light. In confusion, it swiveled its head into the alleyway.

Beyond the light, there sat a circular hole in the air, and inside of that hole the machine saw something impossible. Flowers stretched out to the farthest range of its detection, flowers of all colors in the Shadow Realm and some its sensors did not recognize. Overhead, a perfect blue sky looked down on the flowers, large clouds dotting it, and the sun shone down on all of them. Past the flowers, the X-Head Cannon believed it could see a giant marble fountain, with a statue of a young winged woman reaching down amid the streams of water.

A hand set itself on the machine's shoulder, reaching around the edge of the circle, and gave it a gentle push out of the way before the hand's owner stepped into view.

The X-Head Cannon worked in a general store in the Low-Level Warrior and Beast-Warrior Living Quarters, and so it had seen many a warrior before. None of them came nearly as close as this one to defining what a warrior should look like. He stood at least six feet tall, with a form defined by long hours training and meeting most of the machine's parameters for physical excellence. Light blue silks of excellent cut and styling clung close to his skin, and a silvery cape with blue lining hung over his shoulders; he wore long white gloves and white boots. His helmet, shaped vaguely like a hawk's head, did not completely contain his blonde hair, and his eyes were a light blue, set in an almost boyish face with full lips. The warrior held a sword of about four feet in length over his right shoulder, its edge splitting the light as he shifted it.

Without a word, the machine hovered back, and the warrior stepped out of the circle. He then turned and ran one finger down the dead center of the circle. A slight slurping noise sounded in the air, and then the field of flowers apparently collapsed in on itself, crumpling into a small ball before ceasing to be.

Once that was done, the warrior looked around the alleyway, and then back to the machine. His free hand went out, palm up and fingers bent in slightly. The expression on his face spelled out confusion.

"This is the Level Four Machine Habitation," the X-Head Cannon said, the guns on its shoulders clicking slightly as it relaxed. It had seen monsters emerge into being before, but this was a unique case. Still, it now knew where it stood with the newcomer. "The date is the fifth day of the ninth month, 5177, and the time is twenty-nine after eight in the evening. Do you require directions anywhere?"

Nodding, the warrior reached down with his free hand, undoing a pouch tied to his waist. His hand dipped in, taking out a piece of paper. His finger unfolded it, and now the X-Head Cannon leaned in. It was a drawing - a single circle, next to two joined circles, which in turn was next to three joined circles.

The machine whirred for a moment, digging through its memory, before shaking its head. "That does not match anything in my database. I am sorry."

Refolding the paper, the warrior returned it to his pouch before placing his knuckles to his forehead in a silent sigh. He then bowed his head before walking down the road, heading off in an apparently random direction. As he walked, he took the sword off of his shoulder and gently spun it in his fingers.

It took the X-Head Cannon a few moments to move from its current spot. The encounter had left it confused, and heat still clung to where the circle had sat. Only after the heat faded did it hover on towards its home.

**0000000**

_The story has many variations, but the one they tell most often is this one._

_In the First Dragon War, when the Blue-Eyes Ultimate Dragon turned its followers against the Central Shadow Realm, there was one warrior who had little power of any sort. He was little more than a child, wearing oversized armor and carrying a sword too big for him to use effectively. The other warriors of his unit made fun of him on a regular basis, not only for his weakness but for how he was alone - there were no others of his species. He had no number, and his kind had no name._

_Few monsters ever spoke to him, and he never spoke to anyone. He had never said a word since the day he had come into being. As a result, one of the other warriors nicknamed him "the Silent Swordsman", and the tag stuck._

_One quiet day on the battlefield, the soldiers of the small warrior's unit sat around a fire, boasting of their strength to each other, claiming that they could singlehandedly destroy Tyrant Dragons without so much as a scratch and other such claims. That they had only engaged in a handful of skirmishes meant nothing to their bravado sessions. As was his way, the little warrior said nothing._

_A trumpet sounded in the distance, calling the unit to battle, and so they put out their fire and marched along. But as they neared the front lines, something cast a shadow over them. As one, they looked up, and saw a massive, winged creature descending on them. Given the area, it could only be a dragon._

_And it was easily larger than the entire unit put together..._

**0000000**

There are few easier ways to run directly into the sort of trouble you can't handle in the Central Shadow Realm than taking a shortcut, but the Eria the Water Charmer known as S3-08V (her friends called her Etvee) had a number of reasons to do so, chief among them how cold it was on that night. A charmer's robes are not built for warmth, and her little body got chilled easily. Besides, her familiar needed to be fed.

But as she laid on the ground, staring up into the faces of two Seismic Crushers, Etvee wondered how she had decided cutting through that particular stretch of the Low-Level Spellcaster Living Quarters was a wise move. Both of them stood about two feet taller than she did, with knotted muscles and blue armor on their chests and lower halves, and both were carrying twin swords easily as long as she was tall.

One of them had his foot on her magic rod, meaning she couldn't fight. Either one could kill her with a stray movement of their arms, so fighting was not an option to begin with, but it was the principle that bothered her.

Adjusting his visor, the one nearer her swung a sword down, setting the edge just under Etvee's chin. "You see, Exaye?" he said to his fellow Seismic Crusher, a grin on his face. "I told you, didn't I? I told you leaving the Rock Quarters behind and coming over here would be a wise move! Dark World be damned, if this keeps up we'll be rich by the first month of next year!"

The one with his foot on the charmer's rod chuckled, crossing his swords behind his head. "Ya know, Wyfive, I thought you were a nutcase at first, but it's like they don't even think about where they're running. I mean, doesn't anyone remember the old 'Never enter an alleyway you can't see past the entrance of' rule? Where would you be if you ran into a Despair from the Dark, eh, little thing?"

Etvee narrowed her eyes, somehow managing to ignore the sword against the top of her throat, and muttered, "I'm fifty-three years old... don't call me little." Her courage deserted her as the sword tilted down, and she swallowed, hands going behind her back.

The first Seismic Crusher, Wyfive, dangled the sword in his other hand from his fingertips, grinning at Etvee before he said, "Watch your words. If I kill you we'll have just enough time to dig through your robes for loose change before you shatter. Now, you like having a head?" He paused. "You can answer that."

"Y-Yes..." A chill covered Etvee's spine.

Exaye, the other Seismic Crusher, leaned in and said, "Move slowly and throw me your wallet."

Moving at a very careful pace, the Water Charmer slid her hand into her robes and took out a fake-leather wallet, tossing it at Exaye's feet.

The Rock monster set his swords against the alleyway and knelt, picking the wallet up. He opened it, took out the cash, and grunted. "Damn it. Thirty bucks? Wherever you work, you're getting screwed."

Wyfive suddenly tightened his grip on his free sword, glaring at Etvee. "Did you just make a little chirping noise?" he said, voice cold.

"N-No..." the spellcaster answered, digging her fingers into the street.

"What're you talking about, Wyfive?" Exaye said, setting the wallet between his feet. "A chirping noise?"

"Or a musical note," the other Seismic Crusher said. "Like a quiet piece of music..." He then adjusted his visor, muttering, "Do you smell flowers?"

"Kinda-" And then Exaye looked over his shoulder into a pair of blue eyes, partially hidden under a arched helmet.

One of the monster's knuckles touched to the point of the sword sticking out of his chest, and then the Seismic Crusher shuddered once and slid off the sword, shattering with his weapons as he hit the street.

"Aw, Ra damn me!" Wyfive cursed as he took his sword away from Etvee's neck and charged at the newly-arrived warrior. The warrior just smiled and pulled his free hand back, placing the point of his sword against the ground.

Even as the Seismic Crusher reached where the warrior was standing, he had spun on his sword and wrapped his empty arm around the monster's neck. A single twist of his shoulder broke Wyfive's neck, and he let the body drop, softly kicking both the wallet and the rod back to their rightful owner as the Seismic Crusher shattered.

There was a moment of silent shock, and then the Water Charmer tucked her wallet back into her robe, reclaiming her rod. Only then did she dare look up at her rescuer. Her eyes went wide, and she whispered, "You..."

The warrior nodded, giving her a wide, almost innocent smile. He then undid the pouch at his hip and took out a piece of parchment, which he unfolded. On it was drawn a single circle next to two joined circles, which in turn was next to three joined circles.

"Huh?" Etvee said, looking closely at the drawing. Her eyes ran over it twice, and then a spark went off in her mind. "Hey... I've seen this before. Now if I knew where..."

Blinking, the warrior folded his parchment and tucked it into the pouch again, looking at her with undisguised anticipation. His hand came back out of the pouch with a cloth, and he started wiping the blood off of his sword.

For a legend, you would expect more patience, the Water Charmer thought as she searched her memory. She then snapped her fingers, saying, "I remember now... I'm a secretary in the Library Arcanium, and my boss has that same drawing in one of his books. He said it had some scary meaning, but I don't think he ever told me what..."

Even as he cleaned off the blade of his sword, the warrior smiled, holding out his hand afterward (making sure to toss the cloth away first). Etvee took it, and he pulled her lightly to her feet before setting the sword over his shoulder, turning to leave. He then paused, set his hand to his face, and turned back to her with an embarassed grin.

"Ask for Volunios," Etvee told him, dusting off her robes.

With a nod, the warrior wandered off, disappearing once he got out of the alley.

Once she was sure she had everything, the Water Charmer headed towards her apartment, thinking, _I never thought he was real before... Guess not all of the stories are myths. Still, he's not one I would have put high on the list of possibilities._

**0000000**

_As the story goes, the small warrior's unit had never seen a dragon of anywhere near the size of the one now descending on them. Their courage failed, and they turned to flee, ready to discard their weapons if need be to escape it. It swooped over them, and as its shadow passed over them, so they broke ranks and began to run for their lives._

_But not the Silent Swordsman. He stood his ground, holding up his sword, and marshalled all the bravery he could. The urge to get as far from the dragon as possible was as strong in him as his fellows, but all of their taunting and mockery bolstered his resolve, and he planted his feet, determined not to run._

_And then, for the first time in his life, the Silent Swordsman spoke. He shouted at his fellow soldiers, "Come on! It's one dragon and we're an entire unit! If we all attack at once we're sure to bring it down!"_

_The sound of his voice was so unfamiliar that the other soldiers came to a halt, not sure what they had just heard. They turned to him, even as the dragon's shadow passed over them again, and then what he had said became clear to them. As one, they looked to each other, and then nodded in consensus._

_The shadow came down as the dragon began to land, and the unit pulled together into one band. All of the soldiers drew their weapons, the little warrior at their heart, and the unit let out a battlecry in unison. They then charged at the dragon, weapons raised._

_But as they began to run, a stray rock caught the Silent Swordsman's toe, and the warrior crashed to the ground with a cloud of dust, unseen by his comrades._

_Only as the unit approached the dragon did they see what, in fact, it was - a tremendous, black-scaled monster, its eyes glowing with hate and its wings spread wide. Large portions of its skin were covered in burnt-black rock, and it hunched over as it sat on its hind legs, the weight of its body pulling it down. Fire flicked from its nostrils._

_They had charged the Meteor Black Dragon without realizing it._

_With one massive roar, the Meteor Black Dragon spat a chunk of burning, white-hot stone - a meteorite - at the charging soldiers. They were so absorbed in their attack that by the time any of them attempted to get out of the way, it was far too late. A low rumble shook the air around them, and the soldiers died in a rush of fire and screams. Nothing was left of their bodies or of the meteorite that had killed them._

_Only one member of the unit survived. The Silent Swordsman had tripped long before the soldiers had gotten into range, and so the little warrior avoided the fate of his unit. But it seemed that would not be the case for long, as the dragon turned its eyes on him..._

**0000000**

The Council Upper Quarter, home to the Library Arcanium, generally settled down around nine in the evening, although it never truly closed. Government never stops operations, and the Upper Quarter was the government. The Library Arcanium was likewise knowledge, and knowledge and the hunt for it never cease. They do, however, turn the lights low and clear off the table when it gets late.

At five after nine, LO-573-C sat on top of her notepad, leaning against the receiver as a particularly stubborn caller berated her. Fairy Guardians had a number of disadvantages in life aside from the starting handicap of being Level Three. They were only about two feet tall at their highest, which made for a difficult time doing most day-to-day tasks, and their appearance was far from intimidating. Being able to fly did make up for some of the drawbacks, but dignity remained in short supply.

"Sir, could you please call back?" LO-573-C said into the receiver, holding it on her shoulder as she tried to write the caller's number, pushing the pencil around with her other shoulder. "I am afraid we do not take questions or visitors after nine... I don't care if you happen to be a Level Six, sir, the rules are rules... There's no need for such language. Good _day,_ sir!" She lunged her body up, the phone hitting the button but not locking into the cradle. The dial tone droned as she finished scribbling the number down.

One push of her legs sent LO-573-C (Lofi, as she called herself) airborne, and she buzzed over to a coffee cup, setting the pencil into it. She then took a spear out of the cup - one of her racial weapons - and scratched her foot with it, letting out a sigh. Being the nightshift secretary was usually a boring job, but some would-be querents were nocturnal and didn't understand how most of the Central Shadow Realm was not.

A small sound, like a musical note, chimed in the air, and Lofi set her spear down, eyes wide. Even fairies that came to being in the Central Shadow Realm had a touch of the Higher Plane in their makeup, and that sound had brought it to the fore. Soon it was followed by a sweet smell, and a tear formed in her eye; it was the smell of a flower native to the Higher Plane.

Light blue cloth very carefully dabbed the tear away, and she looked up in confusion... only to find herself looking into a pair of very soft blue eyes, looking out from under a helmet.

Lofi buzzed back to her feet, managing to hide her utter amazement, and said, "Good evening, sir... I am sorry, but we don't take visitors at this ho-"

The man standing before her tapped his foot once, and she knew better than to try to argue. You don't hold a myth to the same standards as the rabble. "What brings you here?" she asked, sighing.

Taking a pencil from the coffee cup, the warrior wrote, "Volunios" on the pad beside the Fairy Guardian.

As she read the name, Lofi thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, he's in, sir. His office is down the hall, third door on the right."

Patting her head, the warrior put the pencil back and headed off that way, leaving a very confused fairy in his wake.

**0000000**

The warrior knew he was approaching Volunios's room about thirty feet before he entered it - there were papers scattered all over the floor in front of the door. He leaned his sword against the wall, gathered them up, and then knocked on the (open) door, holding the papers to his chest with his other hand.

"Come in!" an aged voice shouted from inside the office. "Watch your step by the doorway!"

Pushing the door open, the warrior stepped inside, avoiding a small pile of books next to the door as he did. The room was in a state of stasis between utter disarray and complete insanity, with disarray edging out by the slightest of margins. Shelves were half-full, the other half of their contents scattered around the room and over the desk. Books of all ages and types were everywhere; an old, battered tome with its title written in Infernus on the spine sat atop the pile by the door, while a newly-printed cookbook (The Many Uses of Des Dendle Sprouts) lay next to the phone. The room was lit by twin lamps against the wall opposite the doorway.

For a few seconds, the warrior just looked around, not sure where to put the papers in his hands. Finally, he tucked them into one of the shelves and made his way to the center of the room, placing his feet carefully and almost catching the toe of his boot on one particularly large book.

In the room's center, sitting at the desk, a Stern Mystic carefully placed a bookmark in a large, broken-spined volume and shut it, looking up at the warrior with a glance that showed all the signs of carefully scrutinzing its subjects. His staff lay against the desktop, and his robes were covered with coffee stains. He pushed himself to his feet and leaned in, causing the warrior to take a nervous step back.

After a moment, the spellcaster took hold of his staff and rose to his feet, dusting off the front of his robes. "I knew it," he said, letting out his breath. The smell of asparagus briefly lingered on the air. "Lofi isn't one to let in any old querent at this time of night. But I did not expect to see one such as you." He stepped forward and sniffed at the warrior's clothing, causing his subject to raise an eyebrow. "That scent... those flowers only grow in two places. The Higher Plane is one of them. The other is the Chorus of Sanctuary. But I'm being rude."

Moving back to his chair, the Stern Mystic sat down and sighed. "I am Volunios, as you likely know by now. What brings you to my office, Silent Swordsman?"

Thus identified, the Silent Swordsman reached for his pouch, but then paused and sniffed at his shirt cuff. A smile crossed his face, and he took a longer sniff before opening the pouch and shifting through it. His hand withdrew, the parchment in its grip, and he unfolded it as he set it on the desk before Volunios.

Adjusting his glasses, the Stern Mystic leaned in, humming a bit as he studied the parchment - not, as the Swordsman noted, the drawings on it. "Very peculiar... these aren't cut marks, but they aren't signs of tearing, either. And I can't make out any wood grains, either. This isn't actual paper, but something formed in the image of paper. Saturn left this for you, didn't she?"

One of the Swordsman's eyebrows twitched, and he leaned in, taking up a pen and a loose scrap of paper. He then wrote, "Get on with it!"

Clearing his throat, Volunios said, "My apologies... It is rare that I get visitors, especially not ones as legendary as yourself. Now, I have seen these symbols before, my friend, and not that long ago... Who recommended you to me?"

"An Eria the Water Charmer," the Silent Swordsman wrote in response.

Even as he moved towards the bookshelves to his right, Volunios nodded, saying, "Smart girl, her. She may go far in this place." He slid his fingers over the spines of his books before taking out a slender book with white covers, the title reading simply Azoth. On its front were the circle, twin circles and triplet circles that were on the paper.

The Silent Swordsman blinked, and then stared at the book before seeking a place to sit. None were forthcoming, and so he just sat on the desk.

Volunios pushed his glasses up, and then frowned, looking at the book he now held. "This..." He paused, and then muttered, "If that note means what I think it does, then I understand why Saturn called you forth. Those circles, as I recall, symbolize the three Primordial Suns. They're a story that dates back to before you were even Level Three."

At the words "Primordial Suns", the Silent Swordsman's eyes flashed white, and he grabbed his helmet, falling off the desk and onto the floor. The books bounced around him as the Stern Mystic cried out...

**0000000**

Before anything, there is only a darkness as deep and still as the coldest waters of the oceans. The Shadow Realm is only stitches and threads of a lighter hue than the utter blackness around it.

In this place, the walls are thin, barely keeping this empty black space separate from the empty spaces on all sides of it. There is nothing in this world to hold the walls up, and so it should not be a surprise when the walls begin to crack. And when there are cracks, there will be any number of entities seeking to get through them.

This place, the Shadow Realm, is no exception, and so - even as Exodia awakens and the shadows begin to pool together to hold everything in one piece - a single spark, no more than a tiny ball of light, slips through one of those cracks. The walls seal behind it as the battle between Exodia and Necross begins, so that nothing else from the spark's world can pass through.

Over the ages, the spark grows hotter, and soon it spits out another spark, which breaks into two. The first spark draws together a body, which looks for all the world like bandages wrapped into a human shape. The second sparks, too, develop a body, one that appears more corpulent and feminine than their parent. At some point, it spits out three tiny sparks, which grow three bodies, small and immature compared to their predecessors.

No one thinks anything is unusual about the three sets of sparks at first; they keep far to the side as life begins in the Shadow Realm and the monsters begin to gather. Eventually, seeing them for the first time and learning that they had existed as long as anyone could remember, some monster - name forgotten by history - gives them their names - "Helios the Primordial Sun" for the first, "Helios Duos Megistus" for the second, and "Helios Tris Megistus" for the third.

But there is a reason the three sparks have never done anything. This world is completely foreign to them. They are not sure how to even move with the bodies they have developed, let alone act. In their confusion, they do not realize this is not their place, their world. And they do not sense what they are doing to it. They should not be here.

And the walls, so long ago having hardened, begin to soften and flake behind them. The ground on which they sit rots and overgrows simultaneously, and the air warps around them. Their very presence begins to eat into the Shadow Realm.

By the time Exodia realizes this, the Primordial Suns have almost torn a hole in the fabric of the world simply by being there. Their existence is tugging threads out of the Shadow Realm. Even as he makes plans, however, something happens.

The Shadow Realm is alive, in a sense. It has no true mind, but it can sense pain and wounds. And like any creature, it abhors pain. Like any creature, it can heal.

One morning, as Exodia heads out from the gathering of monsters to check on the Primordial Suns, they are gone. He is confused beyond all measure... but then he senses it. As if they were cancers, the Shadow Realm has enveloped them in its matter.

They no longer exist in the Shadow Realm, but in a pocket world, far from the dimension to which they do not belong. In their own world, they can do no harm to the shadows. This realm, a world outside of any other, is eventually named "Macro Cosmos".

**0000000**

A light, sweet smell floated through the air around the Silent Swordsman's head. He held onto his skull and sat up, wincing as he did so. His helmet sat on the floor next to him, and Volunios stood beside him, holding a pot of coffee and a cup.

"I read about that tendency of yours," the Stern Mystic said. "Once you found something connected to your mission, all of the knowledge burst into your head at once. The Higher Plane is rarely gentle with its servants, I take it."

Nodding, the warrior took the cup and sipped at it, finding the coffee to have a somewhat less bitter tang than usual. He lowered the cup and looked to Volunios, eyebrows skewed.

The spellcaster chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "For some years now, I've taken to putting cinnamon in with the grounds when I make my coffee. I like it, but it's amazing how few people are prepared to drink it..." He then cleared his throat and sat behind the desk, looking to the Silent Swordsman. "I take it you now know the origin and meaning of those symbols?"

After taking another sip of the coffee, the Silent Swordsman nodded and stood up on somewhat shaky legs, moving to lean against the wall. He then glanced to the book, Azoth, sitting on the desk.

"This book was written in 3455 by the Disciple of the Forbidden Spell known as E-441-V," Volunios said. "In it he recorded everything he could about the Alchemicals, the monsters with an unnatural connection to forces outside of the Central Shadow Realm. The Element monsters, the Dimension monsters... The crux of the book is discussion of the Primordial Suns. According to E-441-V, as long as they are sealed, the Shadow Realm is unharmed. But those monsters were never meant to exist in this world. Should they ever reenter it..." The Stern Mystic paused. "Imagine, if you will, the Shadow Realm as a tapestry. Now imagine someone yanking threads out of it at random."

The Silent Swordsman paused, lowered his coffee cup, and shivered.

"E-441-V wrote of a method, apparently in two parts, that could release the Primordial Suns from Macrocosmos," Volunios continued. "But he was unable to find exactly what those parts are. I'm afraid my own research has failed to work that out, either. What I do know is that a Trap cube and a Magic cube must be used together to free them, and both would have to be custom-made. If you could..."

And then the Stern Mystic stopped, as he was talking to air. His pen was on the other side of the desk from where he'd left it, and on a piece of paper before him, the Silent Swordsman had written, "I know who to talk to next. Thank you for the coffee."

Despite his sense of propriety, Volunios chuckled, thinking to himself, _If I know anything about you - and I daresay I know a_ lot _about you - I know exactly who you're going to go talk to..._

**0000000**

_As the story goes, once the Meteor Black Dragon had killed the soldiers in the Silent Swordsman's unit, it looked around for more prey. At first, it did not see the little swordsman, as its eyes were turned too far up to spot him. Wracked with guilt at having called his fellows to their deaths, he did not move or speak, making it easier for the dragon to ignore him._

_But then it hurled itself upwards, taking to the air. And of course, once it was overhead, the Meteor Black Dragon could not miss that distinctive blue outfit silhouetted against the soil. It chuckled and inhaled, preparing to hurl another meteorite down at the Silent Swordsman._

_Looking up, the little warrior was fully prepared to die. In his sorrow, he could not forgive himself - he had spoken but once, and his words had condemned all who heard them._

_But fate would not let him go just yet. At that moment, having heard the sound of the Meteor Black Dragon's first attack, a tall man in purple robes ran up to the Silent Swordsman and stood over him, metal staff drawn across his chest. This was the first Dark Magician, Wagnard, destined to die on the final charge of the First Dragon War; for now, he still lived, and he would not let the dragon kill anyone else._

_Before the Meteor Black Dragon could fire, Wagnard yelled three words of power, thrusting his staff out. Magic exploded on the air around him, and a thousand blades formed from pure mana fired up at the dragon. This was the spell known as Thousand Knives._

_The knives hit home, one after the other, carving the dragon's heart to pieces. It shuddered, and then fell to the earth with a mighty crash, exploding into countless shards._

_As the smoke cleared, Wagnard looked down to the shaking warrior, asking him in a quiet voice, "What happened?"_

_But the Silent Swordsman did not answer. In grief and shock, he pulled himself to his feet and ran, trying to get as far as he could from that spot..._

**0000000**

Cold, biting winds blew through the Spellcaster Living Quarters, just as they did everywhere else in the city. Lower-level monsters just pulled their robes tighter around themselves and walked on, doing what they could to keep warm. Most of them were lucky enough to have apartments, which at least put walls between them and the chill; those that didn't - and some, for whatever reason, did not - glared up at the Spellcaster Penthouses and looked for something to light on fire.

In one particular penthouse, the owner looked out the window, down to the streets below and then up to the Council Lower Quarters, her gaze never really focusing on any of it. Her fingers traced over the glass idly before she leaned back, running her fingers through her hair; her hat rested on the sofa.

The woman's name was Alamere, and her major distinction was being the first of the Silent Magicians to prove the "LV 4" usually written after their names was there for a reason. She was the first of her kind to level up, and as a Level Eight had managed to parlay her newfound powers (and immunity to magic) into success. The name of Alamere appeared on various contracts and leases throughout the Central Shadow Realm. Like many other Level monsters, her origins hovered over her like a ghost, and so she had made a point of treating low-level monsters fairly, which helped cement her reputation as one of the most beloved spellcasters in the city.

She was painfully aware, however, that at that moment any number of them would be willing to kill her for her penthouse. No food and lack of a place to sleep were easily enough to push envy over admiration, and there was only so much she could do.

Alamere sighed (the "silent" in her name merely reflected a preference for quiet, not muteness) and loosened the clasp on her robes. She had silver hair, settled over the light blue skin of her face, and wore immaculately-cut white robes, along with elbow-length white gloves (currently draped over her hat). Her beauty was the first that anyone mentioned in discussing her, followed by her achievements and then her acts of charity. Or, as a rather disgruntled Trial of Nightmare once put it, "Spellcasters get all the looks."

Even as Alamere considered calling it a night and changing into her nightgown, she heard a sound like a single note of music. A moment later, she could smell the scent of a rare, nonnative flower, and her eyes went wide. "Now?" she whispered to herself; she never spoke above a whisper.

And then a white-gloved hand gently slid over her stomach, and emerald skin slid against blue as the Silent Swordsman slid into place behind her, his face set in a gentle smile. His other hand slid into hers, thumb rubbing the palm.

The Silent Magician lowered her eyes to the floor, letting her breath roll out even as she instinctively leaned against him. Her head settled against his neck as she whispered, "Something must be wrong if you're here..."

A finger settled against her lips, and the Silent Swordsman carefully turned her around in his grip, arms never leaving her. Behind his shoulder, she could see his helmet on the floor, apparently set aside in the name of avoiding accidental collision. She had once lost a hat that way.

Her train of thought stopped there as the warrior pulled her in, and Alamere kissed him, holding tightly onto his shoulders. He returned the kiss, and they held the pose for a few seconds, just letting themselves have the moment.

**0000000**

Three years before, before she was Alamere, before the day she had finally unlocked her next stage, she was the Silent Magician LV 4 called TC-909-C, and worked in a magic-cube store under a particularly shifty-eyed example of a Swift Birdman Joe. While she found the work acceptable enough (inventory and handling orders is not the most thrilling job in the world, but if you can do basic math it's a remarkably stable one), her employer had a number of habits she couldn't tolerate, chief among them his taste in cheap cigarettes that smelled like unwashed zombie and how often he didn't even bother coming into the shop.

The realization he was in debt to Ha Des, in retrospect, should have come to her far sooner than it did.

When it actually came to her, it was as a result of her coming in one morning and seeing him in vivid - if not desperate - conversation with a Morinphen. By itself, a Morinphen rarely scares anyone (being ridiculously underpowered for its level), but as the Swift Birdman Joe in question was tied to a chair and had a Venom Snake on his lap, the fiend had the situation well in hand.

"Look," the winged man said, trying and failing not to show his fear at having a venomous reptile in a delicate area, "I told your boss I would have the money back to him by the eleventh month. It's only the sixteenth day of the tenth month. I still have two weeks yet!"

The Morinphen shook its head, holding up a small fan. It waved the fan at the Venom Snake, and the sudden wind made it shift, causing the Swift Birdman Joe to gulp. "The boss sent you a letter, remember? You missed the payment at the end of last month, so the deadline got bumped up."

"I only missed by one day!"

"The deadline is the deadline, 573-SW. If we just ignore it, we're no better than petty crooks, are we not?"

At that point, TC-909-C slid her foot back a few inches. This caused it to hit the counter, which in turn knocked a Blue Medicine cube off of it and caused it to bounce on the floor with an audible thud.

A second passed, and then both the Swift Birdman Joe and the Morinphen turned to look at her. The Venom Snake remained where it was. The Morinphen looked to the winged beast, who looked to TC-909-C, who looked back to the Morinphen.

"I have an idea," the fiend said to its captive. "Let me take the Silent Magician with me when I leave, and we'll clean off your record for this month. The boss needs a new housemaid after what happened to the last one."

"What happened to the last one?" the Swift Birdman Joe asked.

"She was dusting off the snake cages, and... well, let's just say we know better than to stick a feather duster among a bunch of venomous reptiles now. So, what do you say?"

Rather than listen to the negotiations, the Silent Magician backed away from the other two monsters, feeling her muscles tensing with every backwards step. Rumors of what Ha Des did with his maids were all too common on the streets of the Level Four Spellcaster Living Quarters (just as they were on the other quarters), and she would have preferred coming down with Ekibyo Drakmord.

A hand stopped her backwards progress, and she almost leapt out of her shoes before a white-gloved finger went to her lips. She looked up, and a figure in dark blue smiled back down at her, sliding the blonde hair out of his eyes. A sword leaned against his hips, and he picked it up before walking past her.

Even as the Morinphen turned, the warrior brought his sword around. It briefly took the fiend's head with it before the entire creature shattered. Bringing the sword back around, he hurled it straight ahead, blade on its left. The sword cut the Venom Snake in half and sliced the Swift Birdman Joe's ropes before burying itself in the wall.

Taking three steps over, the swordsman placed one foot on the wall, took his sword's hilt, and yanked hard, freeing it. He then turned to the Swift Birdman Joe, who had begun to babble, "Oh gods... You're him. You're the Silent Swordsman... What do you want? What do you want from me?"

A piece of paper slid out of the warrior's sleeve, and he unfolded it, revealing the words, "Your suppliers."

"Oh... Oh, damn. You're asking about that one really weird bit of magic I sold last week, aren't you? Look, I just handle the products, we don't build the damn things!"

The swordsman narrowed his eyes, giving the wing-armed man a frown that would make the Chakra pull to a halt. The Swift Birdman Joe gulped and went to the counter, taking out the sales records.

While her employer was occupied, the Silent Magician finally blinked and wet her lips, having gone still during the action. She then walked up to the Silent Swordsman and whispered, "You're... really him?"

Looking back down, the warrior gave her a smile again, nodding. He then tapped his throat.

"I know you can't speak," TC-909-C said, setting her hands behind her back. "I can, but..."

That gloved finger went to her lips again, and the Silent Swordsman patted her shoulder. He then took a pen off of the counter and wrote on the back of his previous note, "What are you?"

The spellcaster read it and replied, "My kind is called Silent Magicians. We aren't really silent, just bad with loud noises."

The smile became a grin, and he scratched out the old message before writing, "I will meet you when my work is done." The Silent Swordsman then let his expression turn serious again before moving up to the counter, looking at the sales records over the winged man's shoulder.

All TC-909-C could do in response to that was smile.

As it happened, that work consisted of taking out a cell of particularly deranged Aqua monsters, attempting to call the long-dead Venominaga back from whichever plan her soul had ended up on. When they did see each other again, he had a number of deep scratches over his body, some of which were stained purple... but he still grinned when he saw her.

Three years later, that smile still stirred in the Silent Magician's heart.

**0000000**

As the kiss ended and the two stepped apart, Alamere exhaled, moving to sit on her couch. She then looked up at the Silent Swordsman and said, "You never come to the city unless something bad is happening. Why are you here tonight?"

Opening his pouch, the warrior took out a parchment and opened it, showing the three circles drawn on it.

On seeing it, the spellcaster's eyes went wide, and she whispered, "The Primordial Suns... So what they've told me is true. Someone is trying to open Macrocosmos."

It was the Silent Swordsman's turn to go wide-eyed, and as he put the parchment away he waved to her, a cue to explain what she meant.

"One of my aides told me about this the other night," Alamere said, leaning forward and setting her hands on her knees. The swordsman walked up to her, moving her hat and gloves aside and sitting beside her. "You know what Macro Cosmos is, right?"

The warrior nodded.

"Opening Macro Cosmos would be a three-part process - you would need to connect to the pocket of reality, use a powerful spell to breach it, and then perform a ritual to hold the door open. The ritual is common knowledge to anyone who takes the time to study the Primordial Suns, but the other two steps require a custom-built set of a magic cube and trap cube."

Alamere paused, shifting in her seat, and the Silent Swordsman ran his hand along her back. She blushed slightly, remembering how he had done that the first night they had spent together, when she was still a Level Four. The only difference was that she had her robe on this time.

Clearing her throat, she continued, "According to my aide, someone has begun shopping around the major magic and trap developers, requesting the same thing from each one. Until a few days ago, all of the orders were turned down, but Thaumus, Inc. finally took the orders. The names were false, but the magic cube was called 'Reorder the Stars'. The magic cube you need to open Macro Cosmos is called Grand Convergence, and the book Azoth described it as 'reordering the stars of the night into the pattern of another world.'"

A flash of recognition traveled across the Silent Swordsman's face, and he frowned, hand on his chin.

"You see what I saw. The magic cube is Grand Convergence, and the trap is known as Macro Cosmos. From what I've heard, you need to activate the trap, use the magic, and then perform the ritual... I had my aides look into who made the actual order. This morning they told me that it was an Alien Hunter numbered W-0101-S living in the Level Five Pyro and Thunder Living Quarters..." Alamere sighed, rubbing her temples. "I was going to call the police in the morning."

There was the sound of fabric rippling as the Silent Swordsman stood up. He headed for the door, and then paused. His head cocked upwards.

Even as she held her face still, Alamere felt part of ther stomach twist. He did this every time they met.

Turning towards her, the warrior held out one arm in Alamere's direction, hand extended and palm up. His eyes asked the question for him as he looked to her, holding still.

The Silent Magician took a deep breath, holding it for a second before letting it out in a long, drawn-out rush. "I can't," she then whispered, hands on her knees. "I still have work to do before I leave the Central Shadow Realm, and you know that. I promise I'll go with you when it's all done, but I have to stay here."

After a moment, the hand pulled back, and the Silent Swordsman nodded, his face not betraying anything going on within him. He moved back to the couch, kissed her on the cheek, and then picked up his helmet, sliding it on his head. With a single motion, he set the sword back on his shoulder and turned to leave.

Before he could pass her again, Alamere asked, "Will you see me once you're done?"

The warrior smiled and slid his arms around her, answering the question. He then turned and left the room, ducking to avoid nicking the doorway with his sword.

The spellcaster watched him go, wiping the budding tears from her eyes before she looked back out the window. He had offered her the chance to come to the Chorus of Sanctuary any number of times since they had met, and every time she had refused. And yet he kept offering.

As long as he kept asking, she knew he loved her. As long as he came back, she knew she would still love him in return.

**0000000**

_The story goes on to say that after fleeing the battlefields of the First Dragon War, the Silent Swordsman Level Three kept running, boots throwing pebbles every which way as he ran, tears blinding him to where he was going. With every step he condemned himself as a coward and a murderer, a fool whose words had condemned so many good monsters to death._

_He kept running, never looking over his shoulder, until his legs gave out from under him and he fell into darkness. This was the oblivion of exhaustion - he had literally run himself into the ground. He slept, too tired to dream, and thus had a respite from his despair until he awoke._

_When he did awaken, the grief came back, and the little warrior resumed his running, driven only by sadness and self-loathing. No one knows how long he ran, without food or drink, only sleeping when he could not run any further, but eventually he finally came to a stop, knowing he could run no further. No matter how far he ran, he could never escape from his guilt._

_As he sank to his knees, tears leaving glistening trails on his face, he heard a sound like quiet music, a half-remembered song playing in the distance. It was coming from overhead, and so he wiped away his tears and looked up._

_There, standing over him, was a figure of pure order and light. She stood almost seven feet tall, with deep purple skin and solid amethyst eyes. Her form was clad in robes of white centered in blue, held shut with a sapphire in a brilliant gold setting that crossed her collarbone. On her head was a white headdress of silk with a jade crosspiece. Wings jutted out from her shoulders, covered in blue feathers, a pair of which fluttered down towards him._

_"You have run a long way," she said in a voice like ten thousand fairies singing in unison. He could hear the words, but could not understand them; the meaning, however, faded into being in his mind. "You have run for a long time to escape what you have done. But you cannot break free, can you?"_

_The tears flowed from the Silent Swordsman's eyes, and he stuck his sword in the ground, clutching the front of his filthy clothing as he bowed his head. Slowly, he nodded._

_That gaze pierced through him as the tall, winged woman stared down. She then lowered herself, and one hand wiped the tears from his eyes. "You admit it," she said, her voice quiet now. "This, if nothing else, is in your favor. You would atone for your sin if it were at all possible, would you not?"_

_The warrior nodded again, daring to look up at her. He had to look away a moment later, unable to focus._

_Rising again to her full height, the woman held out one hand to her side. A line drew itself in the air, and then irised outwards, revealing a swirling portal beyond. "I am the Agent of Judgment, Saturn," she told him. "Through this gate lies the means to your penance."_

_Without hesitation, the Silent Swordsman drew his sword from the earth and stepped into the portal.._.

**0000000**

One could easily tell, at a glance, whether a building in the Central Shadow Realm came from the Pyro and Thunder Living Quarters or not. The ones from the Pyro and Thunder Living Quarters were substantially bulkier, if not all that larger than the buildings in other quarters. They also tended to flare out at the bottom. The bulk was extra insulation, and the flare was to accomodate the boilers and heaters in the basements.

While Pyro and Thunder monsters could handle low temperatures for extended periods of time without undue harm, they did prefer it much warmer when they were at home. How warm was a matter of individual species, but a general rule was to expect it to be twenty degrees hotter inside an apartment than outside.

In the Level Five section, one apartment in particular stayed at 100 degrees every minute of every day. The inhabitant had a very unusual biology even by the standards of monsters, and only left its apartment when necessary for its business. Very little of its business required that step; it lived its life largely by phone.

This was a good thing, all told, for Alien Hunters tended not to draw the most wanted attention when they did go outside.

Not even the scholars of the Library Arcanium, for all their accumulated wisdom, could precisely pin down when and how the monsters generally called Aliens had come into being, although most estimates put their first appearance at about 4004. A long-standing rumor held that material from another world had seeped into a reptile (some said an Armored Lizard), and it had mutated into the first Alien monster, which then infected others. The same people spreading the rumor were the ones clamoring to have the entire line purged.

The Aliens themselves weren't talking. Even when they did speak, no one could understand them. Their language relied on vocal tones that fell outside the range of hearing for most monsters, and not too many Alien monsters spoke Shadow Realm Prime. This one only did because it had to for its business.

The Alien Hunter known as W-0101-S (Ohwon, as its customers referred to it) lounged on a couch in its apartment, tail flicking. Its electrostaff leaned on the back of the couch, and it trilled softly as it stared at the ceiling. Like all Hunters, it had polished black scales, dry and smooth, covering its body, and a tapered head that sometimes drew comparisons to a dragon (out of its earshot). Its tail flicked about, and it scratched at one of the light blue orbs on its shoulder; similar orbs lined its body.

Ohwon called itself a "mover/connector"; it was the sort of monster others called in when something needed to be found, lost, hidden, or retrieved. It also served as a bridge between those who wanted something and those who wanted money to give them the something in question. It took a lot to stand out in the business, but Ohwon did.

There were downsides to high visibility, however, and one of them came about, as Ohwon found itself staring into a pair of soft, intently focused eyes. They seemed to be upside down, but only because their owner was leaning over the couch and staring down at it.

To its credit, Ohwon remained calm, gently pushing its visitor upright and sitting up. Enough people had broken into the apartment in the ninety-two years the Alien Hunter had lived that it no longer went into shock when people burst in on it. Standing up, it stretched, and glanced to the door.

The door was still closed and locked, and the pencil lead and paper that would be broken if someone had forced their way in were untouched.

Now the Alien Hunter let itself be concerned. "What brings you here, sir?" it asked with a slight trilling accent.

The visitor - a tall man in excellent blue clothing, holding a giant sword over one shoulder and with his face partially hidden under a massive metal helm - reached into a pouch at his waist and took out a folded piece of paper. He opened it, looked at the face - apparently to make sure he had the right one - and then held it up. On it was written "Grand Convergence Macro Cosmos".

Aliens did not sweat. Their bodies did not have sweat glands for various reasons. Each kind had a different way to reduce bodily temperature (though they rarely needed to do so), and thus different reactions to extreme stress. Alien Hunters, for example, saw the orbs in their bodies turn red and the scales pull away.

As its orbs began to turn a bright red, Ohwon scratched at one of its receding scales and blinked, looking away. "I am afraid I do not know what those words mean, sir..."

Adjusting the helmet on his head, the visitor let out a wordless sigh and then moved with amazing speed given the size of his weapon. The tip settled under the Alien Hunter's chest scales and lifted it up to the ceiling, placing it against one of the heating vents.

Letting out a croaking yell of shock, Ohwon held onto the back of the blade, feeling the tip press against the soft flesh under the scales and leave a dent. "What the hell are you doing?" it called down, tail thrashing. "I swear I never saw those words before!"

Down below, the warrior frowned, and then, holding the sword's handle with both hands, shifted his weight. Doing so moved Ohwon several inches over, its scales scraping on the ceiling and the tip of the sword shifting in a very ominous fashion against the flesh.

As it moved, Ohwon let out several panicked curses in its native tongue, causing the warrior to wince and the sword to wobble in exactly the sort of fashion it did not want. "Come on!" it shouted to him, feet clinging to the sword as well. "What do you want from me, ichor? If I tell you who I ordered those cubes for, the guy will make death by your sword look like a week at the Forbidden Palace!"

Giving it a slight smile, the warrior began to bob his sword up and down, bouncing Ohwon on the tip of the sword. The tip jabbed painfully into it with every bounce, and soon enough the Alien Hunter broke.

"Let me down! I'll talk! Damn warriors are all insane, I swear..."

The sword lowered, and Ohwon fell off of the tip, crawling back onto the couch.

"I'm only saying this once," the Alien Hunter said, pulling its tail around itself and rubbing where the tip had dug in. "I never saw him in person, but there's a Different Dimension Guide who's operating out of a condemned building in the Council Upper Quarter. The CSRPD used to store equipment in it, but they built a better warehouse... Either way, I used to meet with a Storming Wynn who works for him, and that's where I got the specs and the names to order with."

One of the warrior's eyebrows went up.

"Yeah, I don't know why she was working for him, either. Either way, they had a really specific deadline for when they needed the cube. I made the delivery just yesterday... The deadline was this morning, and they said something about needing them for tonight."

At that point, both of the warrior's eyes went wide, and he walked past the couch without a word. By the time the Alien Hunter had pulled itself over the back, he was gone without a trace.

"Curious bastard," Ohwon muttered to itself as it laid back down.

**0000000**

_On the other side of the portal, the story goes on, the Silent Swordsman found himself in a most curious place. He stood in the heart of a field of flowers, their blossoms spreading out for miles, as far as the eye could see. Their scent filled the air, and just inhaling it lifted the weight on his heart. The sun shone here, a mild light that made him feel at peace. His guilt still hovered over him, but he could relax for the first time in many days._

_Saturn appeared beside him, arms crossed and wings folded behind her. "You now stand in the Chorus of Sanctuary," she told him. "When the Shadow Realm was young and the Higher Plane was unformed, I and my siblings - Venus, Mercury and Mars - brought this place into being so that we could rest undisturbed by petty concerns. Now it is your home, where you will come when not fulfilling your duties."_

_The Silent Swordsman looked at her, confusion roiling in his mind, but asked no questions._

_One of the Agent of Judgment's arms unfolded, and she pointed to a structure in the distance. "Go there," she told him, "and we will speak further." And then she vanished._

_Fearful of being banished from this place of rest, the warrior walked in the direction she had pointed. Soon he crested a hill, and found himself standing in front of a fountain, pure blue water pouring from the font at its top. At the peak of the fountain appeared a young woman, wings spread from her back and hand reaching down to the basin._

_Again Saturn appeared beside him, and this time she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Listen to me, Silent Swordsman, and listen well, for I will tell you now how to earn your atonement."_

_He turned to her, sinking to his knees and setting his sword down before him. Worry twisted his stomach._

_"Your guilt is not fully deserved," the Agent said. "You had no idea of the dragon's power when you called to your companions, and mere chance saved your life when they died. Indeed, it can be said you committed no crime at all... But that will not lift your sorrow, will it?"_

_After a moment's thought, the Silent Swordsman shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. Even though she spoke the truth, it would not change how he felt._

_"Your penance is this: you will be my champion in the Shadow Realm, an agent of justice. When order is threatened, you shall set it right. Those who seek to topple the proper way of the world shall find themselves stopped by the force of your blade. This place, the Chorus of Sanctuary, may open anywhere in the Shadow Realm, and you may emerge wherever you are needed..." She then sighed. "Though I cannot guarantee you will emerge precisely where you need to be. Your powers will be part of mine, and I do not possess the wisdom of my sister Mercury."_

_Despite the solemnity of this moment, the swordsman smiled. It only lasted a second._

_Now Saturn turned to the fountain, saying, "This is the Spring of Rebirth. Its waters can heal all wounds, quench even the most burning thrists, and break the vilest enchantments." She dipped a finger into the basin, and the water glowed. "Drink from this spring and you will seal this compact, becoming my champion for the rest of your life and taking on great power. But there will be a price."_

_The warrior turned to her, eyes narrowing._

_"The price," Saturn told him, "is that your name will be made literal. You are called the Silent Swordsman, but it is only because you choose not to speak. Once you have taken the drink from this spring, your voice will be forever lost, and you will never be able to speak again..."_

_Before she could even finish that sentence, the Silent Swordsman turned to the waters, removed one of his gloves, and knelt by the Spring of Rebirth's basin. His hand brought the water to his lips, and he drank without pause._

_A searing pain tore through him, and for a moment he could not even think. But then it vanished, and he stood - and was taken aback. He now stood two feet taller than he had before, and his arms and legs were now thin and wire-strong. His clothes were once again clean, and as he picked up his sword, he marveled at how much easier it was to carry._

_The drink from the Spring of Rebirth, he realized, had changed him completely. He was Level Three before and was now Level Five._

_Placing two fingers to his throat, the warrior tried to hum. He felt nothing; his vocal cords were gone. Saturn had spoken the truth, and he would never speak again. He felt no sorrow at this._

_The Agent of Judgment smiled, bowing her head. "The deal is made," she said. "This is now your home, and you are now my servant. Rest well, Silent Swordsman, for I will call upon you soon enough."_

**0000000**

Fifty-three minutes after ten in the evening, a stray breeze in the Council Upper Quarters caught a scent of flowers native to the Higher Plane. It carried the fragrance off to the further reaches of the Central Shadow Realm, ruffling the Silent Swordsman's garments as it went.

The warrior let out a mute sigh, shifting the giant blade on his shoulder. Even though he had, in essence, grown into the sword over the years, it remained a bit unwieldy, even to him. He checked its edge for a moment, shifting it to catch a passing streetlight; once he was satisfied, he moved into the street.

At this hour, most of the Shadow Council had gone home, taking their security with them, and the Central Shadow Realm Police Force had shifted into "night crew", further reducing the number of monsters in the area. In addition, with the warehouse being condemned, no one saw fit to keep a guard there, and thus the street was deserted.

But not quite; the sound of an engine caught the Silent Swordsman's ear, and he moved back a step, out of the lines of sight.

An Overdrive rumbled past, turning its turret in every direction as it did. It paused briefly in front of the warehouse's door, sweeping its gun in a long arc both ways, before the engine clicked again and it began to move.

The machine did not get past the door; with a long spring, the Silent Swordsman leapt atop it, bringing his sword around and through the turret. There was an arc of electricity between metal and blade, and then the crash of failing internal mechanics. The warrior took that opening to make a prudent leap off of the dying Overdrive.

It exploded and shattered at the same time, and he ducked behind his sword, causing the shards to ricochet off of the blade for the most part. As further protection, he pulled down his helmet. Once the sound of metal clanging on metal ceased, he pushed his weapon back up and tried the warehouse door. It opened, and he narrowed his eyes - either the Different Dimension Guide had no need to fear strangers or there was a trap.

All of the warrior's past experiences told him that it was more likely ego than good planning that left the door unsecured. He set the sword on his shoulder, pushed the door open, and walked into the warehouse.

A metal-and-glass booth, formerly a security kiosk, sat by the door. Past it, the warehouse was a massive expanse of bare steel and concrete, lit by long, bare bulbs embedded in the ceiling. One of them was burned out, leaving an uncomfortable dim stretch in the blanket of light given off by the bulbs. Two long windows sat near the ceiling on all four walls, none of which could be opened, and as a result there were several large fans hanging from the ceiling, all of which were currently off, as it was a chilly night.

Equipment covered the floor of the warehouse; several tables lay positioned in an uneven pattern around the space, some of which were covered with pieces of paper and others with books. The Silent Swordsman recognized Azoth sitting on one of them. Another table contained several pieces of spellcaster's paraphelia, including a magnifying glass, a sharpened ritual dagger, and several bags of various substances; charcoal stuck out of one. A giant wooden crate sat in tbe corner of the building, small holes arrayed around the bottom.

The center of the building was left blank, and there the Different Dimension Guide moved around the floor, followed by the Storming Wynn. Both spellcasters had their hands full; the Guide had an open book in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other, and as they moved he occasionally ducked low, marking a line on the floor or rubbing a line out with the heel of his hand. The Storming Wynn carried a long ruler, which she set against the lines from time to time. Near one of the walls, a miserable-looking Deep Sea Warrior holding an Ookazi gun watched, apparently standing guard. Every few seconds, he rubbed his helmet with the back of his hand and let out a rasping sigh.

The diagram that the spellcasters were marking on the floor appeared all too familiar to the Silent Swordsman - a circle in a triangle, three circles at its heart, with lines in precise angles around the whole.

The Different Dimension Guide, as per the rest of his kind, wore a long black robe, pulled shut and with the hood up. The air around him had a slightly psychadelic hue, colors shifting and flickering in turn, and his hands - the only visible parts of his body - were a sickly gray. Chalk dust marked his clothes, giving him the look of a scholar too intent in his work to pay attention to his appearance. In many ways this was the case.

"Damn it!" he said to himself, his hand removing another line from the array. He checked the book he held, and then scraped a new line into place, connecting two points in the setup. His head turned to the Storming Wynn, who knelt and set her ruler against the line. After a few seconds, he nodded and moved along the floor. "Everything must be perfect before I trigger the cubes, or the Primordial Suns will never answer the summons."

"From what I have read," the Wynn said, her voice dull and lifeless (the voice of the mentally controlled), "they will answer any summons."

"That is because you never did keep up with the literature, even after I took you off of that street corner. While any summoning has a chance to call them, this array will greatly increase that chance. We only have one shot at this and I don't want to waste the one Grand Convergence I have on anything less than a three-in-four shot!" The Guide stepped over another line and drew in another fragment of line, connecting a partially-broken one. Checking with his book, he nodded before shutting it. "That should do it. Place the Macro Cosmos cube directly in the center of the array!"

As ordered, the weaker spellcaster carefully stepped over the surrounding lines, moving to the center of the diagram. Reaching into her robe, she knelt and placed a small, purple cube at the very point the three circles met. She then carefully moved back, bowing to her superior.

With a curt nod, the Different Dimension Guide tossed his book and chalk onto one of the tables before retrieving another cube from his own robes. He set this on the floor beside his foot, spread out his hands, and began to utter a series of words in a language the Silent Swordsman recognized but did not understand - they were a strange mixture of Draconic, a language often used by spellcasters, and Pure Tongue, the language of fairies. The way certain words and phrases kept reoccuring, it seemed that it was a ritual chant.

At one point in the intonation, the spellcaster clapped his hands, and the trap cube flashed before activating. The entire array began to glow as the trap cube poured energy into it, and soon the design sank into the floor, still glowing. At the center, over where the cube had sat, a small black orb appeared, pulsing as though hooked into an immaterial heart.

The intonation increased in speed, and the Storming Wynn shut her eyes and held out her staff, chanting as well. The orb began to revolve, growing slightly in size as it did, and the array glowed all the brighter. Near the wall, the Deep Sea Warrior inched away from the spot, cluching his Ookazi gun all the tighter.

In his head, the Silent Swordsman counted off the seconds, eyes trained on the cube next to the Different Dimension Guide's foot. There was only one possibility as to what it was. His timing would have to be perfect.

As the chants reached a crescendo, the Guide stretched his hands up as high as possible, fingers spread wide. One foot came down hard on the cube, and it burst with power, an arc of violet light launching out towards the roof of the warehouse.

That was his cue, and the Silent Swordsman walked forward, concentrating. His innate power rose to the surface, and he held out the hand not holding his sword, eyes closing. Blue light glowed around his body, and then he clenched his fist, filling the entire body with that light.

The arc of energy stopped dead in midair as the blue light burst through it, and it faded away, even as the cube under the Different Dimension Guide's foot sparked and crumbled away. The Storming Wynn stumbled backwards, eyes wide open, and then made a few strangled noises as her hands flew about. Her eyes no longer had the glaze of the mentally dominated.

It took a moment for everyone in the room to react, a moment the Silent Swordsman used to lower his sword from his shoulder and get into a combat stance. Sweat rolled down the side of his face; the power of magic negation took an effort of will to conjure up, and it always left him off balance for a moment.

Once the shock was over, the Different Dimension Guide's aura turned largely red, and he screamed, "Damn it! I arrange all of this for a night when the CSRPD is distracted, Gagagigo is still Gigobyte, the army is on a training mission... I didn't think Saturn would send _you_ after me! Damn the Higher Plane!" A hiss came from inside his hood, and then he kicked away the exhausted magic cube, calm returning to his voice. "Nevermind all that. I had two Macro Cosmos and two Grand Convergence cubes made. Never do something if you have no backups."

The Storming Wynn pressed her staff to his back, hatred darkening the green in her eyes as she did so. "No," she said, her voice barely under control. "You... you bastard... You stole my mind from me. You made me..." The words failed to come out, and as tears flooded her eyes, she shouted, "Air Knives!"

The head of Wynn's staff glowed, but the Different Dimension Guide was unconcerned. He set his hand over the head of the staff and yanked it out of her hand, saying, "Pathetic. Have you forgotten? Your kind is among the weakest monsters of your level... That is why you had to resort to... that profession. Nobody else would pay you for anything." Tossing the staff away, he pulled a hand back, the air dimming around it. "And now I suppose getting rid of you would be a wise move. Void Passa-"

Before the Guide could finish naming the attack, the Silent Swordsman charged across the room and slammed into him, sending the spellcaster to the floor. One of the warrior's feet settled on his chest, and he placed the sword at the Guide's throat, placing his body in front of the Storming Wynn. The Wind-type cowered against the wall, face in her hands.

"Agggghhh... 532-SS!" the Different Dimension Guide said, turning his head as much as he dared. "Do something! This is what I'm paying you for, isn't it?"

The Deep Sea Warrior thus numbered looked to the burned-out shell of his Ookazi gun, and then back to his employer, shouting, "That blue light blew out my cubes! What am I supposed to do?!?"

"You're a warrior, damn it! You have a swallow! Stab him to death!"

"Oh, right..." Reaching behind him, the aquatic warrior took his twin-bladed swallow off of his back, giving it a warm-up spin as he threw away his gun before taking it in both hands and charging.

The Silent Swordsman pushed the spellcaster away from him, swung his blade up, and took the Deep Sea Warrior's charge on the edge. 532-SS stepped back, spun his weapon, and arced low, bringing the blades towards his legs. He leaped over the blade and swung his sword around with one hand, knocking the other warrior off balance. This came at a cost, as the shift of weight threw him off his balance as well, forcing him to stumble to one side and catch his feet.

Both warriors circled around for a second, recovering their equalibrium, as the orb of Macro Cosmos pulsed and hummed, drawing on the remaining energy in the trap cube. How long it would last was not a concern anymore.

Once again 532-SS charged, spinning the weapon around his body at the attack's apex. The Silent Swordsman caught one of the blades on his own weapon and pulled hard, yanking the Deep Sea Warrior to one knee. He thrust his sword out, and the warrior threw himself down, scrambling away from the swordsman's following chop. 532-SS pulled himself to his feet, and the two faced each other again, the Macro Cosmos opening just to the Deep Sea Warrior's right.

This time the Silent Swordsman charged, sword drawn back. He swung it around, and as the Deep Sea Warrior caught it on his swallow, the warrior caught the front of his warrior. 532-SS had just enough time to gasp in shock before the Silent Swordsman hurled him into the Macro Cosmos.

There was a sudden flash of light, a hideous scream, and then a noise that no description could ever possibly sum up, one that no creature born in the Shadow Realm could ever have made. When the light faded, the Macro Cosmos opening was gone, 532-SS along with it.

The Storming Wynn rocked on her feet for a second, and then passed out, collapsing on the floor.

Setting his sword on his shoulder again, the Silent Swordsman looked around the warehouse, searching for the Different Dimension Guide. He found him next to the giant box by the corner, and advanced on him, narrowing his eyes. He had no idea what had just happened to the Deep Sea Warrior, but had the innate feeling it was a fate worse than being cleaved in half.

"Stay back..." the Guide said, holding his hands out. "If you come any closer, you'll learn what's in this box. That's not knowledge you want."

Taking his sword down, the Silent Swordsman carved a single word into the floor. The word was "Why".

A moment passed before the Different Dimension Guide chuckled, crossing his arms. "The only reason we do anything in this hellhole," he replied. "Because we can. It's the same reason that Jinzo made himself what he is, the reason we got into the Second Dragon War, the reason those maniacs summoned Dark Master Zorc back in the 4000s. You know what I did for a living?"

The warrior shook his head.

"I worked in the accounting department at Mudamuda Magic and Trap Cubes, the third-biggest supplier. For 122 years I spent eleven hours of every day checking other monsters's math. Eleven hours every day, except for a day off every seventh day and All Shadow's Beginning. It never changed. 122 years... Then one day I did the math." His fingers twitched, and his voice grew louder. "Eleven hours a day, 287 days of the year, for 122 years... I spent 385,154 hours of my life making sure other monsters were getting the numbers right. And at that moment, I realized something. Unless I did something about it, I had 385,154 more hours of _exactly the same_ waiting for me. And they would just keep adding up... Just... keep... adding... **up!"**

On the last word of his rant, the spellcaster swung his fist back into the box, and a growl came from it. "Damn it all!" he screamed. "I'm not going back to that life! Life or death, I'm not going to spend infinity bent over my godsdamn calculator!"

The box shook, and the Silent Swordsman pulled his sword back, ready to strike... until the top shattered, and he could merely stare.

Something far larger than anything in that size of box had any right to be unfolded itself. It had a gigantic head, spikes running along the sides, with eyes like glittering pellets set behind a muzzle filled with horrific teeth. Pathetically small arms jutted from the sides of its chest, and the whole sat atop two giant legs, a tail like a tree trunk on the floor behind it. The whole was covered with rough black skin, and the monster let out a roar that shook the building.

The Silent Swordsman took a step back, looking from the dinosaur to the Different Dimension Guide.

"You have no idea how much work it takes to find a Black Tyranno when it's newly created, before the instincts kick in," the spellcaster said, his gloating rich in his voice as he pulled himself onto the Tyranno's back. "But if you succeed, they're very easy to train. Just throw them a Level One every once in a while and make sure it knows which of you has the brain, and it's as loyal as an Outstanding Dog Marron!" He settled on the dinosaur's back, pointed to the Silent Swordsman, and called to the gigantic creature, "Dinner!"

Again the Black Tyranno roared, and then that massive head lunged forward, jaws open, faster than it had any right to. A swing of the Silent Swordsman's blade repelled it, but did no real damage. Pulling its head back, the dinosaur growled, and then brought one foot down, the shockwave causing the warrior to fall to one knee.

The head came down again, and the Silent Swordsman scrambled away, holding his sword close to him as he tried to think. He had fought dinosaurs before, and had learned that one good blow usually made them flee in terror (dinosaurs were, for the most part, unintelligent and fled anything that could hurt them). But this one had training; it didn't run entirely on instinct anymore. And judging from the force of the stomp, it was more powerful than he was.

He swung his blade around hard to bat away another lunging bite, watching as the Different Dimension Guide held onto the larger monster's neck with just his knees. The spellcaster laughed, pointing to the Silent Swordsman and calling a word in Draconic. In response, the dinosaur shifted its body to one side, and then turned very fast.

That tail crashed around, and it struck the Silent Swordsman hard in the stomach. He bounced on the concrete floor, wincing in pain as his bounces ended with his hitting the wall. His sword landed beside him.

The floor shook as the Black Tyranno approached him, moving without any concern at all. The warrior guessed it was conserving its energy; he wondered how many other monsters it had eaten, or - recalling the Different Dimension Guide's words - how many innocents the spellcaster had fed it.

One of the Silent Swordsman's hands fell on the hilt of his sword, and he felt new energy running through his body. Nothing would stop him from dealing justice to the Different Dimension Guide. Not after what he had seen and heard. He rose to his feet, locking eyes with the Black Tyranno and holding its gaze.

There was a long second's pause, and then the dinosaur stumbled backwards, letting out a strained growl as it did so. "What the hell is wrong with you?" the Different Dimension Guide shouted at it.

Bracing his feet, the Silent Swordsman concentrated, and then turned and set one foot to the wall. With a powerful lunge, he ran up the wall itself, taking three long steps up before pushing off of it. His shoulder hit the spellcaster's ribs, hurling him from the Black Tyranno, and as his ankles caught on the dinosaur's neck he swung the sword around with one long, powerful motion, burying the blade up to the crosspiece through the base of its skull. The tip jutted up just above the eyes.

Once the blow was struck, the warrior rested one foot on the back of the Black Tyranno's head and pulled his sword back out.

As the Different Dimension Guide struck the floor with the sound of a bone snapping, the dinosaur's body registered its lethal wound. It swayed on its feet, and then toppled forward. The entire warehouse shook as that massive carcass hit the floor, head bouncing three times before it came to rest. Unhooking his ankles, the Silent Swordsman slid off, swinging his sword around to clean the blood off of it.

The spellcaster tried to skitter away, even as the body of his Black Tyranno began to destabilize, but one white boot landed on the bottom of his robe. He looked up, and even though his face was hidden by his hood, the warrior's eyes met his own.

Behind the Silent Swordsman, an outline came into being. It solidified, briefly glowing white before becoming a tall, beautiful woman with rich purple skin and giant, purple-feathered wings. She glared at the Different Dimension Guide, and then spoke in a calm, measure voice: "O-410-E. You are charged with threatening the stability of the Shadow Realm; attempted omnicide; repeated, cold-blooded murders; forced mental control of an intelligent monster; indifference to the suffering of others; and complete lack of compassion. For these crimes you will now be slain, and your soul sent to proper judgment in the Graveyard. Do you have anything to say before punishment?"

Taking a long breath, the Different Dimension Guide let it out, and then said, "It's hard to show compassion when nobody ever does it for you."

The Agent of Judgment, Saturn, shook her head and replied, "That is all the more reason to do it yourself. The sentence stands." She then faded away.

As the Black Tyranno's body finally shattered, raining ebony shards through the warehouse, the Silent Swordsman brought his sword down with a quick chop. It cut through the Different Dimension Guide's chest, and he gurgled for only a second before collapsing and giving his last breath.

The warrior cleaned his blade on the spellcaster's robes, and then left the body behind, setting his sword back on his shoulder. He knelt beside the Storming Wynn, checking her pulse. She was alive but still unconscious, and so he gently tapped her face. As she had fainted from shock and not injury, that was enough to get her to wake up.

"Uhhhnnn..." The spellcaster rubbed one of her temples, pushing herself up a little with the other hand. At that point (going by what showed in her eyes), the memories came back, and she sank back to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, gods... What did I..."

Taking her chin, the Silent Swordsman turned her gaze to the warehouse, showing her the Different Dimension Guide's destabilizing corpse and the burn marks that were all still left of the Macro Cosmos cube. The message was that she had done nothing worth guilt.

This did not stop the tears, and the green-haired woman turned away, whispering, "All those years... I was about to throw myself off the train station when he came to me, told me I could do something memorable... And then he stole my mind." A sob cut her off for a moment. "There isn't anything left... If I go back to that, I..."

While he had listened to her, the Silent Swordsman had fished out a piece of paper and a pen (borrowed from Alamere's apartment). He wrote something for a moment, and then tucked it into the Storming Wynn's hand before giving her a reassuring look. Standing again, he headed for the warehouse door, sword over his arm.

The spellcaster did not stop him, as she was too busy reading his note. "'Suite 4, Spellcaster Penthouses. Ask for Alamere. Your life will get better.' Alamere? Wait, that's..."

She looked up, by which point he was gone.

**0000000**

_The story carries on after the Silent Swordsman becomes a Level Five, but here it fragments into a thousand tales, each of a different mission in his career. As the story covers thousands of years, they could each be true._

_One tells of an attempt to fray the walls of the Shadow Realm itself, to bring forth a creature referred to only as the Chaos Emperor Dragon. The Silent Swordsman, so the tale says, spent three days and three nights on the trail of the dragon-worshippers seeking to release it from its otherworldly dungeons, and when he encountered them gave them all a chance to surrender. They declined. They declined with soul-crushing magics, at which point the Swordsman slew them to a man, crying soundless tears as he did so._

_A popular story among fiends speaks of how the warrior had to seek the aid of Dark Necrofear for one task. This came about when he was sent to the Shadow Realm to prevent an invasion by the Dark World Fiends, recently driven back from Pandemonium yet again. Forced to make a deal with Necrofear, the Silent Swordsman entered Dark World, found the main camp of the invading force, and defeated their leader, a Dark Lucius LV 8, in single combat. But Dark Necrofear never makes a bargain she does not profit from... The price proved so dear that the Swordsman spent a century grieving._

_Perhaps the most popular tale speaks of how the Silent Swordsman grew from Level Five to Level Seven. In it, the Silent Swordsman came into the Shadow Realm without his sword, carrying only a crystal pyramid to tell him what he needed to do. This crystal, as it happened, was the key to a long-buried secret in the heart of the Wastelands - the Pyramid of Light, which held back three monsters powerful enough to challenge even the entire Shadow Council. After convincing the Dark Scorpions to aid him, he raised the Pyramid, entered it, fought through its traps, and met the challenge of the monsters within it. Their tainted light flowed into him, but he resisted it and in doing so gained an epiphany about the nature of the Shadow Realm. And with it, he found the key to becoming the Level Seven he had always held the potential to be._

_He is said to have fought in the Second Dragon Wars, to have fought the Great Leviathan, to have confronted Zorc's followers on the Day of Zorc. He was seen during the famines of 4004 and during the Time of Spirits. Some stories end in his death, but there are eleven of these, and thus none of them could be true._

_One element comes up in many of these tales: loneliness. The Silent Swordsman is the only one who lives in the Chorus of Sanctuary. Except for when Saturn comes to give him a new mission, he is alone. They say that should he find someone he truly loves, he may offer to take them back to the Chorus of Sanctuary, to join in his mission for the rest of their lives._

_None of the tales speak of him ever making the offer._

**0000000**

It was fifty-three after eleven, and Alamere had finally decided to go to bed. Her robe hung on a hanger in the closet, and her hat sat underneath it. She pulled the covers of her bed back, adjusting her nightgown as she did so.

A sound like a single musical note reached her eardrum, and she could smell the scent of flowers on the air. Her eyes widened, and she turned around.

The Silent Swordsman stood by the door, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a sheepish smile on his face. His helmet and sword were nowhere to be found, and his gloves were sticking out of the pouch on his waist. With his hair free to drift around his face, he looked quite young; as he was several thousand years older than Alamere, this never ceased to amuse her.

Moving up to him, the Silent Magician took the flowers from his hand and set them in the vase on her nightstand. She only ever used that vase when he visited her; after meeting him earlier that night, she had put water in it.

"So have you settled it?" she asked him in a whisper, arm sliding around his as she moved towards the bed.

He nodded in reply, moving as she wished and settling on the bed beside her. One hand undid his pouch's strings, and he let it drop to the floor. After a moment's pause, he held up his other hand.

Whispering a few arcane syllables under her breath, Alamere placed her palm to his, shutting her eyes. There was a soft glow, and she could see the events of the evening playing on the inside of her eyelids as if she had lived them. Her eyebrows furrowed as the spell concluded, leaving her a little dizzy. She then opened her eyes and whispered, "You always seem to find me new employees..."

The Silent Swordsman looked away with a mild blush, as he could not deny that charge.

Smiling, Alamere traced his jawline, continuing, "I do not blame you, however. I would not have abandoned her to fate, either, and I always have a use for them. You know I admire that about you..." She turned his face towards hers. "You never let anyone suffer."

At that point, she kissed him, a kiss he returned without any hesitation. They reclined on the bed, her hands sliding through his hair and down his back.

When a night is shared with someone you love, there is no such thing as the cold.

**0000000**

Day broke over the Central Shadow Realm. The light of the sun passed through the city, and the Whiptail Crows greeted it with their screeching song before taking to the air. There were nests of the fiends throughout every quarter, and so the entire city heard their cries.

Alamere groaned, her eyes squinting for a moment before she pulled herself up. The fog of sleep faded from her mind, and she could remember the night before as she rubbed her eyes. On instinct, she looked to the other side of the bed. It was empty.

It was always empty. The Silent Swordsman never stayed for breakfast; she had him for the night and then he was gone.

She only cried for a few minutes. By now she was used to this. Once she had finished, she saw a folded sheet of paper on the bed beside her. With a sigh, she opened it.

"I love you," the note inside read. "I will ask again next time."

Letting the sheet fall, she pressed the note to her chest. The sadness was gone now. "Next time," she whispered to herself, "I might say yes."

**0000000**

For the last time, a line drew itself in midair in the Chorus of Sanctuary. It irised out, and the Silent Swordsman stepped out, tears staining the green of his face, adjusting one of his sleeves. The flowers brushed against his legs as he walked through the field, wiping his eyes.

The sky brightened slightly, and Saturn's face echoed through the field. "You have done well," she said, pride in her voice. "Once more the Shadow Realm is safe. Now rest, my champion... The peace will only last so long." With that, the sky returned to its mild light.

Taking his sword and helmet, the Silent Swordsman put the former over his shoulder and the latter on his head, and made his way to one spot in particular. It was a bare patch at the very foot of the Spring of Rebirth. He dipped his hand into the waters and took a sip, feeling his sore muscles cease to ache as he did.

After that was done, he stuck his sword in the ground, as he always did, and sat down with his back to the Spring. With a mute sigh, he shut his eyes and let himself fall asleep once more. When he was needed, Saturn would wake him.

In his dreams, he and Alamere ran amid the flowers. Both were laughing with joy...


End file.
